Page 65 of I Knew You Were Trouble

I lean up, brushing a chaste kiss against his warm cheek. ‘I will see you later,’ I whisper, and close the boot, walking around to the passenger side of the car.

‘Tonight,’ he says. ‘Promise me.’

‘I promise,’ I say with another smile, and get into the car.

I dress with Aidan in mind: a white pair of loose linen trousers, paired with a snug black vest top and my hair tied back.

Ziggy’s edict probably should annoy me more than it does. When it comes to filmmaking, I’ve never been good at individuals telling me what I can and cannot capture. I often take words like, ‘you can’t film that’ as a personal challenge, if only to see what I can get away with. Yet the idea of spending some time with Aidan in Dubai fills me with excitement, and it’s for that reason alone I’m willing to go along with any suspension.

It’s a pleasant twenty-minute walk from the hotel to Cape Town Stadium for the final show in Cape Town, and Duncan’s been craving fresh air. Meredith has our stage passes, and our kit is already on the scene. I feel a sense of giddiness that I try to conceal.

‘Drugs, aye,’ Duncan is commenting about the moratorium on filming in Dubai. ‘Gotta be. They don’t want to be caught on film possessing or taking anything.’

‘You think that’s it? You think it’s just partying?’ I ask.

‘Either that or one of them’s got something to hush up.’

‘Apparently Miller wanted it, and got the others to agree.’

‘I heard Miller’s got a friend who lives in the Dubai Marina,’ Meredith pipes up. ‘He’s throwing a big party for him whilst he’s in town.’

‘How did you hear that?’

‘Tun told me. I don’t know where he gets his intel but it’s, like… golden.’

I almost feel guilty that I know exactly where Tun is getting his intel from. It’s called pillowtalk.

We’re almost there and need to get our lanyards ready for security. Duncan clicks his tongue. ‘I say we down tools and just let them get their kicks for five minutes.’

I’m getting myself a drink in the crew room when Bodhi enters, making a beeline towards me.

‘Aidey asked me to come get you,’ he says in a low voice.

A shiver travels down my spine as I put down the drink.

Following Bodhi down another bland-looking corridor, I check my watch. The support act is already halfway through their set, Duncan already upstairs and preparing himself up to film. A bubble of disappointment bursts involuntarily in my chest. Aidan isn’t going to have long.

Bodhi stops outside a door, giving a quick double knock. He waits, then holds it open, turning and granting me a smile.

I thank him, taking a step forward. I feel my heart slam into my ribcage as Bodhi closes the door behind me.

Aidan is stood in the centre of the slightly soulless room, arms clasped behind his back, in full costume, his collar pulled up, hair sweeping into his eyes, as though he’s been waiting in that position for some time. The lights in the room are dim, save for the bright bulbs illuminating the mirror behind him.

We are alone.

Aidan walks over. He passes me, reaching the door. Then he locks it.

A moment later, I take three steps forward into his waiting arms.

Our kisses are ravenous, his lips warm and welcoming. Very quickly, I am lost in him, his hands caressing my body, our tongues colliding, my body caught in a powerful grasp, the pleasure fogging up my brain until I can’t think. There’s an ache between my thighs as he walks me backwards towards a sofa against the back wall.

He lowers me down, his body covering mine. We kiss for some time, Aidan settling between my legs. I can feel how hard he is, his length straining through the material of his costume. His fingers tease the edge of my vest top, sliding underneath until they graze the hem of my bra, and his hand slides over the contours of my breast.

‘Can I touch you?’ he asks me and I hum affirmatively in response. He shifts his position so that he’s beside me. His hand slides from my breast, out from underneath my top before it skims south over my belly button. My breath catches as I feel the elastic waist of my trousers stretch out, before I open my legs wider and his fingers dip underneath the lace hem of my underwear and sink assuredly down into my plump, swollen folds, already wet with my own arousal. I sigh heavily, because this is what I imagine when I’m alone with my thoughts at night.

Within a few seconds, there is a loud rap at the door. ‘Less than two minutes, Aidey!’ a voice shouts from the other side of the door.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers without flinching, kissing me again, expertly finding my centre, stroking me at just the right tempo, his fingers dipping inside me, then coming back to the point of maximum pleasure in movements that have my hips writhing, until I think I might pass out at the pleasure of it all.

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